


The Platonic Proximity Progression

by Lauren (notalwaysweak)



Category: The Big Bang Theory (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-05-06
Packaged: 2018-01-23 18:55:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1576004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notalwaysweak/pseuds/Lauren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Stuart wakes up in Raj's bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Platonic Proximity Progression

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DracoAries](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DracoAries/gifts).



> Someanon posted [this](http://tbbt-headcanons.tumblr.com/post/84853796810) to TBBT Headcanons on Tumblr. dracoaries remarked that she "would like nothing more than to know what happened when [Stuart and Raj sharing a bed] wasn’t platonic." I wrote it, for that is my role in the fandom. It's a little rougher around the edges than some of my stuff because I basically blitzed it in about 70 minutes between work and class and wrapped it up while pretending I was taking notes in a lecture, so I do apologise if it's choppy.
> 
> TBBT characters do not belong to me (except I am totes married to Stuart Bloom on the astral plane) and I am making no money off this work of fan fiction.
> 
> * * *

The first time Stuart wakes up in Raj’s bed, it’s with the timpani thrum of a hangover in his head. His t-shirt has crept halfway up his torso and he can’t remember if he took his jeans off, or if Raj did it for him. Either way, the waistband isn’t cutting him in half, so that’s good.

The smell of coffee is what pries his eyes open. Raj sets the mug down on the nightstand, studiously not saying anything.

“Was it really bad?” Stuart asks after the first sip.

“You may have overdone the sadtinis a little.”

“I didn’t drunk dial anyone, did I?”

“No. Who would you have to drunk dial?”

Stuart drinks more coffee in lieu of answering. He can’t really snap about Raj’s assumption that he’s not referencing an ex, because he’s not. The only person he’s worried he might have called is his realtor about the store rent.

 

The second time Stuart wakes up in Raj’s bed, he at least remembers why; a protracted argument about the couch. Not one that he’d started. Raj had said it had to be bad for his back, and Stuart said it was fine, resulting in a ten minute lecture about the benefits of memory foam.

“If you’d just try it when you’re _sober_ , you’d appreciate it,” Raj had said.

Stuart doesn’t remember the exact sequence of remarks and responses that got them from there to here, but here they are. Cinnamon is asleep on Raj’s feet; the clock on Raj’s side of the bed indicates that either Raj is ridiculously late for work, or it’s the weekend.

Raj sleeps on his side: sometimes the left, sometimes the right. This morning he’s facing Stuart. His hair, when not tamed by product and relentless combing, is soft, tousled, and falls in his eyes. Stuart’s very tempted to brush it out of the way, but refrains. It’s not like it’s actually bothering Raj, anyway. It’s just bothering Stuart because it’s spoiling his view of Raj’s face. Raj has an interesting face; it makes Stuart wish he had a pencil handy. There’s just something about the line of his cheekbones,  the line of his eyelashes against his cheeks, the line where his upper lip meets his lower lip.

Stuart shakes himself out of his reverie and rolls quietly out of bed, hunting both for a clean t-shirt and the pancake recipe his mom made him memorize long ago.

 

The third time Stuart wakes up in Raj’s bed – it’s not the third time, actually, they’ve pretty much got a bedtime routine now, it’s just the third specifically memorable time.

He’s not sure what woke him up, and he’s halfway back to sleep when Raj whispers, “Stuart. You awake?”

He _intends_ to respond, to at least try for a groggy “uh-huh”, but his mouth and throat are too dry. Besides, he’s too tired to answer whatever pressing three AM question Raj has.

He’s three-quarters of the way back to sleep when he figures out why Raj was checking.

His own libido is pretty dulled these days between the depression and the meds, but if he wants to get off, he does it in the shower. It’s not his bed, after all.

But it _is_ Raj’s bed, and Stuart can tell what he’s doing from the movements and the low sounds and the particular pace of his breathing.

Raj rolls away from him at the end, his breath catching in his throat. He’s not so far away that Stuart can’t hear the name on Raj’s lips, though; it’s one he knows very well.

Raj is asleep within minutes, breathing evening back out, but Stuart’s back to all the way awake.

 

The well-beyond-fourth time Stuart wakes up in Raj’s bed, his friend is pressed right up against his back, his lips warm against Stuart’s shoulder. His hand is draped over Stuart’s waist, perhaps half an inch away from indecency. But it’s pretty indecent anyway. Indecent and intimate. Raj usually wears pajamas to bed but the top has gone missing. His chest is a solid stretch of bare warm skin against Stuart’s own bare back.

At least _he_ has the excuse that he usually sleeps in his boxers.

Raj’s legs are tangled around his, flannel soft on his skin. They are thoroughly entwined, and Stuart’s frankly quite impressed that they got so closely together without one of them waking up.

He tries to slide free, but Raj’s other arm is tucked under his neck, and maybe if he’d gotten into rom-coms instead of SF he’d know how to extricate himself. As it is, when he tries to move, Raj’s arm tightens across his waist, and Raj makes a sleepy negatory sound. His lips move on Stuart’s skin when he does, and Stuart’s hard pressed not to make a few noises of his own.

The problem with Raj pulling him closer is the undeniable hardness that’s pressed tight against Stuart’s ass. Well, maybe that’s not the problem. Maybe the problem is that Stuart’s getting all kinds of turned on in response. Not just to that, but to Raj’s proximity in general. And not just to that, but to the fact that it’s Raj, and maybe he’s been headed this way for a while.

Maybe Raj has been leading him this way for a while.

He’s pretty sure that Raj is going to notice that he’s getting hard; his hand is basically right there, and for Stuart’s own part he feels like the heat coming off him should be enough to alert Raj that something’s going on.

That’s when Raj starts moving. His hips press in tighter against the curve of Stuart’s ass, cozying his cock right in, and Stuart closes his eyes and tries to regulate his breathing. The thing is he’s not sure if Raj is awake or not. If Raj is aware that he’s, well, and now he’s _rubbing_ against Stuart, his movements rhythmic, his breath catching and hitching, his lips parted against Stuart’s shoulder. Stuart holds still, trying not to react, wanting to react, wanting to arch back against him, and maybe to grab Raj’s wrist and shove his hand into his boxers.

He’s afraid that if he does react, Raj will wake up and the spell will be broken.

He can’t hold still forever, though, and when he does it’s to shift his legs slightly apart, giving Raj easier access to push in against him. The movement inches his cock just that little bit closer to Raj’s hand.

Raj stops breathing altogether. That’s how Stuart knows he’s awake.

“Stuart?” His voice is slurred, slow. That’s how Stuart knows he really has been asleep the whole time. “Are you... oh my God.” He lifts his head, apparently realizing where he is. Where _they_ are, in relation to one another. “Oh my God, I’m so sor–”

He starts lifting his hand off of Stuart’s waist, and that’s when Stuart _does_ grab his wrist.

“Don’t you _dare_ stop.” He barely recognizes his own voice. It’s not morning-sleep-rough voice, either. It’s _desire_. He hasn’t heard that from himself in _ages_.

“What–”

Stuart rolls over in the circle of Raj’s arms, threads his fingers into Raj’s damnably ruffled hair, and pulls Raj’s mouth to his. It is not gentle; he has quite a bit of pent-up frustration that has waited until now to come out, and besides, once he’s started kissing Raj it’s very difficult to stop. He moves in as close as he can, outright grinding against Raj, who wholeheartedly returns the gesture. In fact, once he’s recovered from the shock of having his roommate’s tongue in his mouth, he grasps Stuart’s waistband and pulls enough to free Stuart’s cock. A little more fumbling and they’re skin to skin.

“Fuck, Stuart, _Stuart_ –” Raj chants fervently, and his nails scrabble at Stuart’s lower back until Stuart rolls on top of him. Raj’s cock is caught between them; his own presses in between Raj’s thighs as Raj spreads his legs.

It’s over almost before it has begun; Stuart’s so wound up that he comes with very little effort, Raj’s mouth not stifling the noises that he makes. He feels the hard hot pulse of Raj’s orgasm against his stomach only moments later. Raj has stopped saying his name and moved on to incomprehensible vowel sounds.

They lie there for a while, coming down. Raj’s arms are loose around Stuart’s waist, one hand stroking idle circles on Stuart’s lower back. Stuart kisses his eyelids, his cheeks, his lips, tracing all those curved lines he’s been admiring. Raj makes content murmuring noises whenever his lips touch down.

“I wasn’t expecting this,” he says presently.

“You _weren’t_?” Stuart stops kissing him and just stares down at him.

Raj’s eyes blink open, stay half-lidded. “No. I mean... I was hoping.” He grazes his lips against the side of Stuart’s throat, and then nips lightly. “I thought maybe... I didn’t know how to ask.”

“Don’t worry, your sleep groping got the message across.”

Raj’s cheeks go a distinct shade of red. “I’m sorry!”

“Do I feel like I’m complaining?” Stuart asks, rolling his hips down against Raj for emphasis.

“No- _oh_.”

“I know this didn’t come out of nowhere.”

“You – what?”

“I’ve heard you. When you thought I was asleep.”

“Oh.”

“I wasn’t asleep.”

“Oh.”

“And I couldn’t get back to sleep until I got myself off–”

“ _Stuart_...”

“–because just knowing you were thinking about me like that got me so hard, I couldn’t–”

The rest of his sentence is swallowed by Raj’s mouth, greedy, hungry, making up for lost time, making up for the nights of lying a foot apart, unaware.

 

The fifth time, Stuart wakes up in his and Raj’s bed.


End file.
